Fighting for Your Life
by Z.N. Singer
Summary: For every Death God, there are hundreds of humans with spirit power who live their lives in private nightmares, chased by monsters and never knowing why. Yes, we've heard all about the heroes. The heroes are wonderful. But what about the little people?
1. Prologue

Kurosaki Ichigo had a way of turning the world on its head – and leaving them grateful for it. Ryoka allies? Unheard of! A Substitute Shinigami? Illegal! Bankai in three days? Impossible! But none of these expressions really mattered much to him. Now it's almost time for him to go…but even as he does, he leaves behind the seeds of what may prove to be his greatest achievement of all. For every Shinigami, there are hundreds of ordinary people in the real world, cursed by power only good for letting them see the monstrosities that haunt them. Yes, we've heard all about the heroes. The heroes are wonderful.

But what about the little people?

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**FIGHTING FOR YOUR LIFE: PROLOGUE**

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I owed my life to the Death Gods for years. But I never knew what they were called.

When the school yard got all torn up during lunch break, everyone assumed some drunk had driven through. I was the only one who could see the thing that did it. It was after me, they always are. I don't know why. I suppose it has something to do with the fact that I'm the only one who can see them. Or I thought I was. Until that day, I never met anyone else who could see them.

Not the monsters, or the figures in black kimonos who would save me…without saying a word. Or even looking at me.

It was Sunday, and I was shopping. It's amazing what you can get used to, huh? In Israel everyone is used to bomb threats, and so everyone just lives normally. Even though I've been periodically attacked by beasts out of nightmare since I was five, because it's always been that way, I just live like everyone else. Until I have to run.

It's gotten easier to sense them as I've gotten older, and since my twelfth birthday, sometimes I've been able to find a Death God before anything can happen. Only then they were just the Black People. The ones who killed the evil things that tried to kill me, but never talked to me. It's hard to say anything to someone like that, you know? They come out of nowhere waving a katana, and sometimes they'll even make it change shape, or shoot fire or lightning at it, and then they've killed it and they're about to go…um, excuse me, but what are you? Oh, and that thing too, while you're at it. I've just accepted it. You'd be surprised what you can accept if it's been that way since you were little.

This time was different. I've never felt anything this strong before. Whatever it was, hiding in a building wouldn't help for this one. I had to get out, and run. Find a Black Kimono, and hope he could win. Because there's no such thing as a guaranteed victory, and Black Kimonos give a feeling too. Usually they're stronger, but once I saw one almost get killed before another came to help. And compared to what I felt now, that one looked like the little ones I've killed with bats.

Luckily I hadn't picked anything yet. I ran outside and stopped to get my bearings. I've stopped looking to see who else has noticed: no one ever has. Spotting the direction of the monster was easy—even if the feeling wasn't so strong, it was huge: I could see it just fine. And it was heading my way.

Like always.

I've stopped wasting my time with things like, why me? I just turned and ran down the street and around the corner, as directly away as possible. Because I'm in real trouble now. I've never tried to sense anything through such a strong aura, and I can't tell where the nearest Black Kimono is. And without one of them, against something this huge, I'm as good as dead. So all I can do is run, and hope they find me first. Or it. It's pretty easy to find; even normal people are noticing now. Like all the big ones, it doesn't think much about buildings, it just goes through them. There'll be a lot of newspaper articles about earthquakes tomorrow.

Hopefully I'll see them, instead of being in them. On the casualty list.

So I ran, as fast as I could. But that thing had much bigger legs, and where I went around things, it went over them, or through. In a few minutes I was in its shadow. And then it was there, above me. Its foot was lifting over me.

Its foot went on over me, and landed on the other side.

It wasn't after me?

For a second, I was just stunned. It was the first time being chased hadn't been like my own private nightmare. No one else was ever involved, just me. Just me...

Except this time. I whipped around.

There was an old man on the sidewalk with what looked like his granddaughter; she was about my age. And they were both staring at the monster. They didn't look surprised. They didn't even look scared, precisely. More like worried. When you're worried, you're wondering what might go wrong, and what you'll do if it happens. When you're scared, you're not trying to do anything anymore; you're witless and clueless. At best, you're just waiting and hoping it won't happen. These people were worried. Which would have been interesting, in and of itself. Except I had other things to worry about. Now that I knew I wasn't going to die…I really didn't want to see them get eaten either.

Now the granddaughter was tugging on the grandfather, trying to make him run. He didn't move, but turned his head and said something, then looked back. I was pretty sure I knew what he had said. I had just tried outrunning the thing with a much bigger lead. If the Black Kimonos weren't already here, then it was too late for an old man like him. There was no way he could run.

Now the daughter was screaming, maybe even begging, I couldn't be sure, I couldn't hear their words from there over the screams and the monster itself, as it approached them. It wasn't hurrying anymore, probably because it could tell it didn't need to. The old man's expression was strange. He looked a little sad, sure, a little regretful, in the gently sorrowful way of the martyr…but he was also smiling. His lips were curved upward in a slight daredevil grin, and while his eyes were sad, they also held a hint of anticipation.

The monster reached them. It stopped, looming over them. Eyes never leaving the monster, the old man slowly reached down with his left hand, and gripped a round medallion hanging from his waist.

The granddaughter freaked. She screamed and threw herself at him, clinging to his arm and crying. Now that the beast wasn't making earthquakes with his movement, I could finally hear her. Her voice was hoarse, rough and shrill with desperation as she begged.

"No! No! Grandpa, you'll die. Urahara said so. You can't do it. _You'll die Grandpa!_"

The old man was stronger than he looked: abruptly he threw her away, shoving her so she landed back and behind, leaving him in-between her and the monster. Then he looked back. The sad looked retreated a bit, making room for his grin to widen and his brows to arch higher as the beast raised its arm above him, huge, awful, and final: doom on the edge of occurring.

He watched it falll. I watched it fall. The girl watched it fall, frozen and shaking, biting her lip, but no longer bothering to scream. I really didn't want to see this…but I couldn't look away. As its fist reached the old man, I saw him clasp the medallion to his chest. I didn't know how it was important to him, but he clearly wanted to die touching it.

The hand, the Giant's fist fell on him. The force rocked the world.

That wasn't a physical force.

It felt like an explosion. The air _twisted_, rippled and burst. Pulses of blue light blazed from the spot. The monster screamed as a new aura, a bright huge shining presence like a Champion of Heaven blossomed into glorious existence and washed the creature's own aura away like it had never been. Good as it was, its force almost brought me to my knees: I could hardly breathe for it. And when the light died away, a figure was standing over the old man's body. A Black Kimono, with red spiky hair and a daredevil grin and eyes that gleamed the mad glad gleam of battle. Instead of a katana he had a sword on his back that was almost as big as he was. It looked like what you'd get if someone tried to combine the smooth curving shape of the Japanese sword with the terrible cutting weight of a an Arabic scimitar. It looked like it could slice cliffs apart, in the right hands. His hands were probably right. He was standing under that monster's fist with a stance so casual it was almost insolent, holding up all that creature's force and grinning.

One handed.

"What the hell…that's all you've got? That's embarrassing, man."

The monster leaped back like it had been burned. Looking at its fist, I realized that it was actually hurt; the skin was broken, dented, inflamed. It cradled the one hand in the other as it said, "You…who…who are you!"

"Kurosaki Ichigo, substitute Death God. _Former_ substitute Death God, thanks to you."

"Kurosaki…Ichigo?"

"Yep. You know the name? I'm pretty well known in Soul Society. Now that my body's dead, I guess I'll finally be living there with the squads. But first —" And now his eyes narrowed even further: the grin left his face and he gained the grim determination of a warrior. His right hand reached up to his sword hilt, and the wrappings that served it as a sheathe spun off it, like it couldn't wait to cut. The gleam in his eyes was darker now. They spelled death.

"— I'm gonna take you down."

In an instant he was gone; the next he was in midair in front of it. It raised its arm to block; the Black Kimono — no, the Death God — hunched his shoulders and pushed; the sword sheared through the arm like it was foam. The monster roared in pain and swung wildly; once again the Death God vanished. When he reappeared he was on the roof of the building behind it. He was grinning again.

"Oi, sorry about that. It's been five years since Urahara said my body couldn't survive being separated from my soul anymore, so I'm a little out of practice, you know? Don't worry, I'll soon warm up."

Abruptly his brows bunched together as he stared with a quizzically hostile focus at the monster, as if he'd seen something he didn't understand, and didn't like. When I looked, I saw the monster was smiling slightly. The Death God was looking angry for the first time. And glancing at the granddaughter, I thought I knew why. She didn't look like she was watching a miraculous rescue: she looked like she was in the kind of anguish only death can bring. I didn't understand what being a Death God meant, or how it had to do with separating the soul from the body, but one thing was clear: in doing this, he'd left his body, his human life, behind forever. He wasn't going to go back.

"Oi, you think something's funny, you ugly blockhead? Don't tell me you actually think you _won_ anything here. You think I'm weaker now or something? I don't even need to move to fight you, I can win from _right over here__!_" As he spoke, his voice rose, and as it did, his spiritual presence rose as well, coming off him in smothering waves that filled the air in front of him. The monster bulged, choked, hunched over until his head almost hit the street. He was the focus, but even where I was, it felt like I was being blasted by a river of thick, boiling hot steam. I cried out and staggered.

Instantly, his expression changed. He vanished again: when he reappeared, he was in front of me, and facing away. His aura gentled, the waves stopped hitting me and even the monsters presence faded. He stood between it and me, arms spread, as if to stop even the intangible harm that might come.

"Oi…you can see, can't you? All of it."

I blinked, stared. It was the first time a Black Kimono — a Death God — had acknowledged my presence directly. "Uh…yes."

"I'm sorry about that. It's just been so long I've had to sit around and let others fight, I guess I just wanted to stretch things out, flex my muscles and all. I'm sorry," he repeated. "I forgot about the bystanders. You talk to Karin there after," he said, nodding towards his granddaughter, "And she'll explain things to you. About Death Gods and Hollows and all. Don't worry, I'll finish it now."

"I've never let anyone else get hurt yet. It's the best part about being so damn strong."

The monster heaved itself to its feet. The Death God — no, Kurosaki-san — tensed, but didn't move, staying in front of me. For a moment, I though they'd clash right there. Then the beast — the Hollow — stopped, with a terrible sly look on its face. And then it lunged towards the granddaughter, Karin.

It must have been so determined to get one back at Kurosaki-san that it forgot how incredibly fast he was. For all it was frightening that it tried, it never had a chance. Its fist thudded into the curve of the Death God's left arm with a crack like rock on steel, and stuck there, gripped in the colossal strength of Kurosaki Ichigo's spirit power. His eyes and face were Death. Holding its fist in his left arm, he raised his sword in his right. "That was real stupid, rockhead," he said.

His sword wasn't even as big as one of its fingers. But somehow, raised before it, it held a deadly finality no amount of size could conjure. He brought it down.

"Getsuga Tenshou!"

A wave of spirit power sliced from the path of the swing and reared into thirty-foot existence. The monster split in two. The _street_ split in two. A miniature canyon opened up along the boulevard for thirty yards behind as the wave continued to expend its power into the pavement. By the time the destruction ended, the beast itself was completely gone. He slowly swung the sword back over his shoulder, and the wrappings twisted back around it of their own accord, its task done. He turned back towards his granddaughter.

"What d'ya think, that was pretty good no? He's sorta the Hollow that killed me, so I had to send him off good. Not that I want you to call it that, or it'll be embarrassing, you know? That the Kurosaki Ichigo got finished off by a shrimp like that. I'd have to beat Renji to a pulp to shut him up."

"Oh c'mon…don't look like that."

His granddaughter — Karin — was crying. Even though he'd won, she didn't look like it: she was miserable. Even if there wasn't any help for it — even if she could see and talk to him afterwards — her grandfather was dead, and nothing could change that.

"Oi, oi, cut it out already, you're making me feel like crying. It's not like it's goodbye or anything…I'll be visiting. You know that."

"But…but..."

"No buts. Next time I come by, if I find out you've been skimping on training with this as an excuse, your creaking old gramps is gonna hafta be really mad. Take that girl along too," he added, nodded towards me. She blinked and looked up – I just sort of froze, I had no idea what to say or do. But as soon as she looked at me, she could tell too: that I was someone who could See. Her eyes widened; after a moment she nodded at me. I nodded back. Well, what else could I do?

"That's right, people with spirit power should stick together. And they should learn to use it. If the Quincy can, anyone can. You bring her along and see she learns. I'll be seeing you. So it's not goodbye, got it? It's 'see you later'."

"Okay…see you later. Grandpa."

"Sorry I can't help explain, but they can't hear me now, you know." He grinned. "Oi, smile back at me. I can't go take over for the Captain Commander with you looking like that."

She nodded, and tried to smile. It was shaky, but she did it. She was pretty gutsy, I guess.

"Captain Commander, is it? I though you'd be satisfied with being fifth squad vice-captain, but you can try if you want, Ichigo."

"Ho, really, I can?"

"Sure—if you warn me in time to get three miles away first."

I looked up and to the right. Death Gods seem to like high places, probably because they can get to them. Now there were three more: a tall white haired man who radiated a gentle but deep seated strength and had a kind smile, a slightly shorter black haired man with the thin, elegant face of a born aristocrat, and a girl, not much past the waist of either man, with short black hair. She was the one who had been speaking. She seemed very comfortable with him. Kurosaki laughed.

"Sure, I'll do that. But really, two captains _and_ you? That's quite an escort, you know."

The white haired man smiled. I liked him on sight, but the black haired one looked snooty. "Well, Soul Society owes you a lot, we though you were due an honor guard . Besides, you're going to be my vice-captain. Of course I should come to meet you. Unless you don't want the position of course. But I was looking forward to having one again."

"So you're gonna use the fact that I'm captain class to make things easier for you, huh?"

"That's what the council was thinking, I imagine."

For just one moment, he dropped the casual attitude. "I'll be honored, Captain Ukitake." Then he went right back. He had this arrogant congeniality that managed to let him be a smart mouth without annoying people. "Of course, it ain't got _nothin_' to do with you being in that squad, right Rukia?"

She chuckled. "I haven't the faintest idea what you mean."

"Thought so. Uhhh…"

"They're all fine. Orihime reached their meeting spot, but Sado must have come out farther away: he hasn't made it back yet. They're going to join the squads together when he gets there. As for Tatsuki…" She paused.

"It's fine. It's probably better I don't know. We had a good life, but they'll be separate after this. I know you gave her a good soul burial."

"I'm ready to go."

In midair, screened lattice doors appeared and opened, revealing a tunnel of light behind. One by one they went through. It felt like there should be more to it…but goodbyes can go on forever if you let them. And that's not right. Goodbyes are also beginnings. You shouldn't put them off, or drag them out.

For a minute or two, we both just stood where we were, while everyone panicked and babbled around us. From the looks of it, there would be a few gas pipe explosion stories too: the explanations they came up with were pretty predictable. Finally I walked over to Karin. I held out my hand.

"Umm… pleased to meet you. I'm Satou Kureha."

She took it. "Kurosaki Karin. I'm named after my great-aunt. Ummm…I'm not going to be able to talk for a while, I think…"

I looked around. I could hear a siren, and a few people were beginning to come towards us as they remembered or figured out that we, or she, was connected to the casualty of the day. I made a few calculations. I'd had experience.

"You can explain things to me later. I'll help you explain now."

"It'll be faster that way."

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Author's Notes:

This particular story was originally meant to be just a one shot, and very nearly lived out its life so. I'd just wanted to portray Ichigo's last moments as a human. This seemed to me how he would go out - giving his last moments to take out one last Hollow, and then off to Soul Society, as cocky as ever. At some point, the 'main' character was invented as a window, an alternate viewpoint. I liked the effect of seeing it all happening through the eyes of someone who didn't understand, even though the reader does. Only the people who read it seemed to have other ideas. Two out of three people who marked this story in some way seemed to expect further installments. Several have even put story alerts on it. At first I was inclined to just send them a pm explaining that this was it. But it got me thinking, because it just doesn't take much to get me thinking – could she carry her own story? Once I'd conceived her, she actually had a strong flavor, a good character: well she had to be, to color the 'window' she made into events. And she did seem to personify a troubling aspect of the Bleach universe well worth exploring. And bit by bit it came together, until I had a viable story in my head. But there were still obstacles. At first, it was because by that time I'd started another, much larger project, Fate/Spiral Time, which was frankly far nearer and dearer to my soul. And as some of you know from reading Fate/Spiral Time and the notes that accompanied it, and others from my profile or maybe even my blog, I have come to realize that becoming a true, original novelist is a dream that fanfiction cannot replace after all, and you've gotta have priorities if you want your dreams to get anywhere. Two individual factors contributed to make this story possible in spite of this. One was my discovery that while I can rarely write more than a page and a half of _a_ story a day, if that, I can still write that much for yet another story if I have time. So keeping a fanfic going on the side was feasible after all. In addition, I realized that the day was rapidly coming when all of us writers would have to make our own e-books sell, and keeping an active profile in fanfiction, once already established, seemed likely to prove helpful. So I could justify the time here.

But in the end, of course, the real motivation was the same one I'd always had: the same one that makes me write original fiction in fact. Whether I mean to use them or not, the ideas are there, and will always continue to propagate in my head. And those ideas, once they have come to life, have a way of making you regret not writing them.

And of course, in this case, there's a less usual source to thank. To those readers who, over two years ago when I first posted this, made me realize potential in this story that I would never have lingered to uncover on my own: arigatou. This one is for you.

Chapter One is complete and awaits only the attentions of a beta reader. Chapter Two is roughly half-way done.


	2. Chapter One

_Note: I tried very hard to get a beta reader, but after more than three weeks and five petitions and only one response (to refuse), I just felt I couldn't keep sitting on this anymore. So if it does have typos or grammar errors, I did try. And will continue to try for future chapters. Onward._

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**CHAPTER ONE**

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They say helping each other out in strange and difficult circumstances make fast, close friends. Thanks to Hollows haunting my life, I hadn't really had any friends to find out with before. But if it was true, than I was off to a good start with Karin. We'd met five minutes ago, and here I was, helping her look too broken and destitute to be talked to so she could explain things to her mother without being overheard. It was a kind of weirdness I was so used to dealing with alone. Even if I was the one giving the help, I could kind of see how that worked.

"Yes, they've already picked him up. Two captains and Rukia-san. Kuchiki and Ukitake. Fifth squad vice captain. Well they can't keep openings forever, Mom! They can't leave a squad without a captain for more than fifty years!"

Nope. Not normal. But lots of things haven't been normal for me since a misshapen thing with five tongues – or arms maybe, it was a long time ago – first broke it to me that my life would, in very significant ways, not resemble other people's. At least it looked like I could have some company now. I hunched a little more closely over her, making it look like I was holding her tighter when I was actually trying to muffle the conversation, which was becoming rapidly more annoyed.

"Look Mom, I'm in the middle of town here and the only reason I'm not having to make up stuff for half a dozen reporters is because I'm letting them think I'm too broken up over Grandpa. Very funny Mom, someone's helping. Look, this is really tough over here, I'll explain later. Can you please just _get over here_?" Pause. A deep breath. "Yeah. Thanks Mom, sorry about that. It's okay, just try to hurry, Kureha…san is doing great but there's so many people, it was really big. Okay. Great, see you. Bye."

She hung up and practically banged her head into my shoulder, letting out her breath in a whuff of exasperation. I debated whether to tell her to go ahead and use chan. I wanted to…but I didn't know how.

Then she suddenly picked her head back up, blinking, like she'd forgotten I was there and only remembered when she'd hit cloth. She glanced at me. "Uhhh…she kinda got protective of him over the last few years, so…"

I nodded, keeping a straight face. "It's not often you get to regulate your relative's afterlife."

She nodded. "Right…" and then her face twitched. I could feel my eyebrows trying to crunch into a grin. It didn't help that I could see her mouth trying desperately to keep from laughing. Now _I_ was trying not to giggle. Finally I just put my head on her shoulder and muttered "If they can't hear us or see our faces, they'll think we're crying."

And so there we stood, smothering our laughter at the whole, crazy world into each others shoulders, looking so much like two friends in mutual grief that we had a five yard space around us. Perfect. We looked absolutely natural.

And suddenly, it was just that simple. "Hey, Karin-san. Use chan, okay?"

"You just called _me _san," she pointed out.

"Well, I don't have _your _permission." I pointed out.

"Fine, then we're both chans. So, can you see my mother coming? We've got both entries covered in this position."

I glanced up. "Well, what am I looking for?"

"Yellow car, long black hair. They named me for my great-aunt, but it's my mother that looks like her."

"No, nothing. Of course, she'd probably have to leave the car behind: they've almost got the road closed."

"Oh that's right. Well, she's a little short and has long black hair. Light eyes, you'll notice."

"Okay."

That was all for a few minutes. Then Karin said, "Hey, Kureha-chan. I just wanted to say—I've always had relatives and stuff who knew what was going on, but nobody my own age. So…so it's nice to meet you."

"Yeah, me too. But you're seriously lucky, you know."

"Huh?"

"You're the first person I've _ever _been able to talk to about it."

Suddenly her hug wasn't for show anymore. "Now you do," she said. "Not just me, everybody I knew till now, too. My family, the Yasutaras, the Ishidas, there's lots of them. They're mine, now they're yours too. Okay?"  
I wasn't pretending anymore either. "Thanks."

"Oh wait, I think I see her. Does she wear glasses?"

...

Yes, she did wear glasses, and yes, it was her. After that things went quickly. She put on a superb act, slipped the reporters by and had everything taken care of within fifteen minutes, at which point she explained that she should really take her daughter and friend home, after all they had been through such a _very _shocking experience, you understand…and that was that.

"So, where does Kureha-san live? Or is she visiting the house?"

"Yeah, actually, she really should. I want her to meet the family, and besides, she can see _Death Gods_, Mom, she's really strong. Grandpa said she should join my training, so I want her to meet the others too. And…" She paused, glancing at me, probably wondering if what she was going to say might be considered personal. After a moment she compromised. "She hasn't met anyone with spirit power till now, and she says she'd like to."

"Nobody? Really? It's hereditary, at least one person in your family ought to have it somewhere along the line."

I blinked. This was news to me. "I didn't know anything about it," I said. "I _still _don't. All I knew was that I'd get attacked by weird things at least once a week that I couldn't possibly fight and that if I could keep running somebody in a black kimono would kill it and save me. Finding someone else is…" I stopped. I was babbling, and I really didn't feel like talking about something like this with Karin's mom.

But when I checked, Mrs. Kurosaki had a strange look on her face. "I see," she said finally. And that's all she said, for the rest of the drive. I glanced at Karin. She shrugged: she didn't know either.

They had a very nice house: someone made a lot of money here, not that it was my business, or that I asked. Me and Karin waited at the gates for her mother, who was moving kind of slowly, like she was thinking about something else. When she caught up she gave me that odd look again (it was beginning to make me nervous) and then sort of smiled and said, "My younger son is going to enjoy meeting you. He's convinced no one could be stronger than his big sister, but you just might change his mind."

"So…you can really learn to be strong? Without being…without those kimonos?" I finally finished. I had a feeling this sounded really moronic to people who actually understood the whole thing, but I still didn't know how else to describe them. That's who they'd always been to me: the men in black kimonos. Well, there were women sometimes of course.

"Yes, you can. And we'll show you how. Uriyu isn't entirely pleased with how his 'new Quincy clan' is coming out, but he's pretty much stopped complaining, and he can't deny all the new techniques work. Though he still hasn't given up on the uniform," she added, lips twitching.

I chose not to comment. I didn't feel like reminding them once again that any vocabulary beyond 'unreal monster', 'black kimonos' and, possibly, katanas, had me lost for the conversation.

When we walked up the drive there was a boy sitting on the steps outside. At first I assumed he was the 'younger son' that Mrs. Kurosaki had mentioned. Then he stood up, and I realized that he was too old to be referred to that way, he was close to Karin's age. My first thought was, Oh, he's nice looking (I'm human, okay?). My next was that he also looked familiar. My next after that was a distinct and disturbing sense of déjà vu. I turned, slowly, towards Karin. I took a good look. I turned back to the boy – redheaded, like Karin – and took a good look at him. I made a quicker second check. They both waited through this with a very practiced sort of patience. They were clearly used to this. Finally I said, "So…are you a visitor or what?"

He grinned. "No, despite appearances I'm related."

"Ha ha," Karin said. "Kureha-chan, this my twin brother—you guessed, right?—Ren. Ren, this is Kureha-chan. She was the one the Huge Hollow was chasing at first. She'll be joining the training from now on."

"Huh? Why?"

"Because she could see Grandpa's Death God form, because Grandpa said she should before he left, and because she's my _friend _now, okay? Stop being a male monkey."

"Okay, okay, I don't a _problem _or anything, but don't her parents—"

Twins were famed for silent, effective communication: his sudden stop suggested Karin had just sent a loud, clear signal of '_shut up_'. Silent was the word: I was doing everything I could to bottle up what I wanted to say. Suddenly I wasn't sure whether I loved this family for rescuing me or hated them for being able to take company for granted. Behind me, I could feel the circle of awkwardness expanding to include their mother. But she was a mother, and recovered faster.

"Well, she's here to learn, and to meet the gang, and she won't do any of it outside," she said firmly. "Or she could, but I'm sure she'd prefer to sit down and maybe eat something. Come on, out of the way Ren."

By the time we were inside, seated around the table with some refreshments down, I was under control. I saw Karin giving me occasional quick checks from the corners of her eye: she'd noticed the sequence. "I'm fine," I muttered.

She nodded. "I guess we do kind of…take it for granted," she admitted. "It's a little embarrassing, but—I don't think I ever even thought about it. What it's like for other people."

"Well, I wouldn't either if I could. Just—just leave it. I'm glad to be here."

It ended up taking a while. Once her mother and brother sat down, they wanted to know what I wanted to know first. But I wanted to know _everything_—from the beginning. Which took a while, and kept getting sidetracked. But about two hours later I had a pretty good idea of what Hollows were, what Death Gods were, and how the system worked. I'd also ended up learning a lot about their grandfather—boy, talk about a juggernaut. It was kind of good to know auras like that were top class: I mean, if they weren't, what _were_? And what would I do if one like that from the _other _side came after me? All round it was good news. And it was quite a sensation to have the past eleven years or so of chaos finally start to make sense.

"So if you can't get a Zanpaktou—Soul Slayer—and you can't use Kidou as a human, how do you fight?" I asked.

This also turned out to involve background explaining and some sidetracking. Another forty-five minutes were passed as the details of the Quincy clan and their methods intermixed with bits of how their present patriarch did all sorts of stuff with Grandpa Kurosaki. These families had a serious history of rear whupping. I hoped I wouldn't seem too wussy by comparison.

"So, basically, you can't use your own power so easily, but because you have it, you can channel _other _power from around you? And the more you have, the more you can get?"

"Why...yes, that's it exactly," Mrs. Kurosaki said, looking both surprised and pleased. "You catch on very quickly dear."

"Uh – thanks," I said, unsure how to handle my first praise on this subject. It sure didn't _feel _like I was catching on quickly.

"A good thing too," Ren said seriously. " 'Cause being sharp is about the only thing that impresses Reiji-dono. He's the instructor for the Quincy arts, he teaches us and he'll teach you – I guess."

"_Yes _he _will_," Karin said, glaring at Ren.

"Whoa whoa, will you _please _stop jumping down my throat about her?" Ren said in annoyance, hands held up in a calming gesture. "I haven't got anything against her, all right? She's cool. I just don't think it'll be so simple, that's all. You know what Reiji-dono is like."

"He'll cope," Karin said briskly. "I don't think Grandpa ever meant for the lessons to be for just family and friends."

"Uh...if it's 'and friends'," I said hesitantly.

Karin flashed me a quick grin. "A very specific category of friend. More like, Grandpa's battle group and all _their _kin. Spirit power is hereditary so once they'd all felt about and figured out all their relations that were also seeing spirits, that made a pretty decent sized starting pool. And of course, it was called the Quincy _Clan _for a reason, and Uriyu-sama was – is – really stubborn about it. And Reiji-dono is really stiff, a total traditionalist, even though he only knows what his tradition is by reading about it, so he might give you a hard time..." she trailed off, now looking worried herself. "Well, we'll deal with that," she finally said briskly. "He doesn't really have a good reason to refuse, we'll beat him down, right Mom?"

"Of course," she said matter-of-factly. "Since your Grandfather suggested it personally, I'm sure we'll be able to manage. To be honest, all this is really making me think...well, for now let's just worry about her. Let's see...Reiji-dono should be available now, right? Kureha-san, do you need to be home yet? It would be easier to introduce you and get him worked over now, and you could get picked up and taken straight to your first lesson tomorrow."

"Wha – just like that?" I asked, startled. "I mean...don't I need to sign something, and, um, I don't really have money...well, I have, just not enough for something like this..."

"Don't be silly, it's nothing like that," Kureha said, grinning at me. "This isn't a community self-defense course. If he accepts you you just come. It's a...passing on thing. Really."

"Okay...if you're sure...I mean, I'm not one of the ones he's supposed to be 'passing on' to, really."

"It'll be fine," Karin said firmly. "Are you free to come or not?"

"...I can come, I just need to call my mother first. Give me a minute."

"Sure."

So I got up and moved away from the table to dial my mom. I told her that I'd met a friend and she wanted to show me something, I'd be getting home late. As I'd thought, the word 'friend' thrilled her so much she didn't ask anything else, it was too easy really. It's a good thing the friend part was really true, or I'd have given it away out of guilt. I'm a rotten liar.

"Okay, you ready?" Karin asked.

"...yeah, I guess." I said. This was really moving way too fast for me, I didn't know what to make of things anymore.

"Hey, relax," Ren said, grinning at me. "We'll all come along to back you up. It'll be fine."

...

Reiji-dono did not think it was fine.

"I fail to understand why you have come to see _me_," he said coldly. "If the child wishes to learn power she may find her own way. The Quincy tactics are not for common knowledge."

"Reiji-san, those days were over before you were born," Mrs. Kurosaki said patiently. "You can't keep trying to define today by yesterday, I've told you that I don't know how many times. It's already being taught to no less than five families who aren't Quincy, and more than half of what you teach now has been developed by non-Quincy, including me and my husband. What's the difference anymore? Being a Quincy just isn't about possession of the techniques now. That's how it is."

"Then do it yourself. You are a very capable archer and have done very well developing your 'free form' style inspired by the Getsuga Tenshou. Or your husband can do it, if she prefers the Swordsman style. You don't need me. I am the Quincy instructor, and I only teach your children out of respect to your grandfather and his role in resurrecting us. I am aware that we were only given this chance thanks to him."

"Then respect his last wish before he left for Soul Society Reiji-san. He told Kureha-san and my daughter that he wanted her to join Karin's lessons."

"While I have utmost respect for Kurosaki Ichigo-sama," Reiji-dono said with a stiff formality that suggested his respect was largely a compulsory concession to his own code of conduct. "I reserve the right to choose my students for myself. Kurosaki-sama knew nothing of her when he said it."

"He knew more about her when he recommended her than you do now refusing her. Stop being stubborn and listen already. At least have the courtesy to _pretend_ to judge her before you say something like that."

"If you wished me to judge, you should have brought—"

"Reiji-san," Mrs. Kurosaki interrupted, showing anger for the first time, "she is _right next to me_. Just how long have you been teaching my children? I should think by now you could tell she isn't one of them."

From the silence that followed, I could tell nearly everyone else was embarrassed. For me though, it was just one more layer in a conversation that had strained me so far I thought I'd explode into fragments of tears and fire. My hands were clenched so tight I didn't think I'd ever _un_clench them; my shoulders were almost crunching in on themselves; the biggest reason he hadn't noticed me was because I'd known that if I so much as looked up at him, let alone said something, what would come out would end any chance of lessons forever. All my life...all my _life_...everything I did, had been dictated by knowing that any time, one of those things could come out. Right then I hated Reiji-dono more than anyone else in the world, but I hated the idea of staying helpless even more. And yet...how _dare _he...?

From the sound of it, he was at least a little embarrassed to realize that he'd been talking like that in front of me. Maybe he was even a little sorry – but not nearly enough. "She is not one of us," he repeated, perhaps a little less frostily. "There is no need for her to know our powers. If she is that enamored of combat, I repeat that you and your husband are more than capable—"

"Enamored?" Mrs. Kurosaki asked softly. It was soft – but it made my head snap up. Karin-chan's eyes were wide, and even Reiji-dono looked startled. It wasn't just me. Mrs. Kurosaki...had just gotten _really_ angry.

"Since when has being hunted until you lashed out been classified as _enamored_, Reiji-san? You've spent too long reading of your clan's glorious past and deeds: you've forgotten why they developed them. Out of rage and grief, after having watched one too many relatives devoured by monsters for their power. They developed them to fight – to fight for their _lives_, and the lives of those they knew. Hollows have not stopped attacking whoever is too weak to fend them off Reiji-san. If the Death Gods are ever too late for her, will you attend her funeral? Her parents won't know, but we will."

"You think she's _enamored_, Reiji-san? I think you should try asking her for herself."

There was another, even longer silence. Finally I heard Reiji-dono say, "What is your name?"

"Satou Kureha," I managed. Mrs. Kurosaki's speech had helped calm me a bit. I just hoped it would be enough to get me through this.

"Just how long have you been seeing Hollows and Death Gods Ms. Satou?"

"The earliest one I remember was five."

"Have you ever been injured since that time?"

"No. Not yet. Not seriously."

"Just how old are you now?"

"Fourteen."

"It sounds as if you've managed to take care of yourself quite well Ms. Satou. I see no reason to bend tradition any farther to accommodate you. The Death Gods have been doing their job a long time and have certainly succeeded thus far with you. Even if it seems bad, it is only what most people go through, after all. They survive. So can you."

It was like losing control over pressured water: first a few spurts, then more and more as you scramble until it finally breaks loose completely and just pours out over everything. You can slow it down, but once it's started, you've already lost. My first spurt was a whisper, but so intense I though it would burn my throat.

_"What do you know about it?"_

I could almost hear him pulling back into lofty frosted heights. "A great deal more than you I think, who've lived your life in ignorance of the spirit world while I've studied it from childhood. I will not tolerate resentful sulking."

"You don't know anything." I raised my eyes: the retort he'd been preparing stopped when he saw them. "You don't know anything about me, and you don't know anything about what I've lived through. You think being ignorant was _fun?_ Who told you about it? About what it all meant? No one told me. How long did you spend wondering why no one saw anything, or why monsters worst than any movie were really, truly trying to kill you? I gave up wondering, it didn't do me any good. How many years have _you _spent having to drop everything and run anytime, praying the right people will find you, and all the time, not knowing _anything about it_? Not what, not why, not how, not even who was saving you, just having to scramble again and again and pray you were doing it right. How many years have _you_ spent alone, always alone, because no matter how friendly somebody is you know there's only so long before they're going to wonder what's the matter with you, or why you keep not showing up to things, or why you suddenly disappear and can't explain why later! _You don't know anything about me! _And you don't know anything about what I've been through! You grew up with people who explained everything to you, who knew all the answers, you grew up with people who could defend you, you didn't have to run all over town depending on strangers, you could probably already fight them when I was just getting started – running! You think just being saved is enough? Every heard people talk about getting a life? Well I haven't got one. And maybe learning to fight won't solve all my problems. But at least I'll be in _control_. I'll be able to do _something_. There's more to life than just breathing you know!"

"And if you – if that's too hard for you to understand, Mr. _Super Elite Quincy_, with your Quincy _privileges_ like not being at the whim of every misbegotten soul that crosses your damn path – well, who needs _you_? Go back to your spirit palace and practice techniques yourself! I'll try and keep breathing long enough to satisfy your damn conscience!"

The silence was ringing. There were tears in the corners of my eyes, but I kept them locked on Reiji-dono. If he was going to turn me away after all that, he was going to do it while looking me in the eye.

The silence stretched into a pause. To my surprise, he didn't even start to say anything. He just kept looking back at me: deliberately peering like I was some intellectual puzzle that would reveal itself in time. Slowly his expression shifted from hard and affronted to severe but thoughtful.

"That would be unpardonable rudeness from one of my students," he said finally. "However, even I am willing to acknowledge that heat of emotions can overcome the best of us. If you can show me equal determination to learn the skills to control your fate tomorrow, I will let this pass. Otherwise, expect punishment, and quite likely expulsion. Do not be late." And he shut the door.

"Whoa..." Karin said softly. "Uh, Kureha-chan...that was..."

I just pulled my head in and braced myself. I knew I'd been stupid. I didn't care.

A hand landed on my shoulder. I glanced back to find myself looking not at Karin's worried face, but at Ren's face – grinning.

"That was _awesome,_" he crowed. "No one's _ever _given it to him like that before! Relax, he had it coming. Man, I've wanted to take him apart forever and you did it day one! I'm jealous!"

For some reason, it was just the right thing for me to hear. Instead of feeling ready to break down and bawl, I felt a smile begin to tug at the corners of my mouth. "I'll probably pay for it tomorrow," I pointed out.

"_So _worth it," Ren told me. "You'll never get another chance, take it when it comes! We'll help you out if it gets too bad – but I'll bet you won't need it. Man, tough as _nails_. I can't wait to see what style you pick! Bet you're hand to hand."

"Ren! _Shut up_!"

"It's fine Kureha-chan," I said, turning around. I still had residual tears in my eyes, but other than that, I was ok. "I'm fine. Thanks Ren. I'll see you all tomorrow ok?"

Kureha looked kind of doubtful, but she nodded. "Ok."

.

.

.

* * *

Author's Notes:

So, after all that time, this thing is on. A couple general things should be clarified at this point. First, my handling of Japanese vs. English honorifics is somewhat less consistent than in my other works. I'd probably be using them less entirely if I hadn't stuck myself to a pattern with that bit about wanting to be called 'chan'. I usually skip most use of san and just stick to the others, which are the ones that really make a point. Here, it is more...haphazard, though only from character to character. At the moment, I'm not sure it's worth trying to straighten out. So, if you find it jarring, definitely tell me. But if you don't...please don't mention it at all. In the meantime you'll find a list defining the meanings of the Japanese honorifics just a bit further down.

More astute readers may note some inconsistencies in quality. The thing is, both the prologue and perhaps two thirds of this chapter, maybe less, were written before I started Fate/Spiral Time - over two years ago. My style has improved since then. The next one should be more even. Readers coming from Fate/Spiral Time may also note that the story's unity from prologue to chapter one does not match what I showed myself capable of in Fate/Spiral Time. This is to be expected, since the idea that there would _be _a continuation only happened after. Those not used to my standards there probably won't notice.

I think all that's left to say is that further details on how and why the Quincy Clan has been revived WILL be revealed, though probably not until Chapter Three. That's just how things came out. In the meantime you will be treated to an in-depth treatment of how Quincy power could be explained, taught, and used in new ways. Much more on this in Chapter Two.

I can't escape the nagging feeling that I am not writing on the level I was when doing FST...which, for me, is a really tough feeling to deal with. We'll have to see what comes of it. I am reviving an old idea. That often takes some warming up.

Japanese Honorifics:

San - the most basic one, used by default for almost anybody. Japanese culture is very structured, with the result that there are very few places where a Japanese person will not use an honorific. However, I will most likely phase back to cutting this one out almost entirely, so don't pay too much attention when it isn't used.

Chan - a more familiar and fond honorific. Considered somewhat feminine, applied to males only with care. Female equals on friendly terms will nearly always use it, as will most female classmates.

Kun - sort of a masculine chan, a term of familiarity that males are comfortable with. Used very often as a male counterpart to chan.

Sama - respectful honorific for someone who is either superior by right and/or position, or who the speaker has reverence for, or wishes to express it for. Things like that.

Dono - also a term of respect, but one used for specific sources of respect, often military. Someone considered an important and knowledgeable practitioner of a respected art or discipline will often be called this, especially if it involved martial arts or some other form of combat in some way. Hence Reiji, a master and instructor in Quincy martials arts, is correctly addressed dono rather than sama. It is unlikely I will be making use of any of the others, though there are a few.


End file.
